


A Reawakening in Wakanda

by MimiWritesHerFandoms



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Anal Sex, Bottom Bucky Barnes, Boys In Love, Boys Kissing, Cuddling & Snuggling, Domestic Fluff, Fluff, Holding Hands, M/M, Male Homosexuality, Sex, Stucky - Freeform, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Top Steve Rogers, Video & Computer Games
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-01
Updated: 2019-02-28
Packaged: 2019-10-20 06:40:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 28
Words: 14,324
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17617433
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MimiWritesHerFandoms/pseuds/MimiWritesHerFandoms
Summary: As soon as Bucky came out of cryo, Steve returned to Wakanda, desperate to help his best friend and former lover heal. He wasn’t sure exactly what Bucky remembered, especially when it came to the two of them; they’d cross that bridge when they came to it. In the meantime, he would be there as long as Bucky needed him and wanted him. And thanks to the King of Wakanda and his unexpected friendship, they had all the time in the world to figure things out. Well, more like twenty-eight days.





	1. Holding Hands

**Author's Note:**

> Written for my Love All the Marvel Ships Challenge on Tumblr. There will be twenty-eight entries, one for each day of the month. I’m pretending the end of Avengers: Infinity War didn’t happen. Therefore, this is canon adjacent.

Bucky had been back for six weeks, pulled out of cryo by Shuri after she’d managed to yank the programming out of his head. The new arm had been attached just two weeks ago, so Buck was still getting used to it. He’d broken more than a few plates and glasses after forgetting how strong the vibranium arm could be, unnecessary apologies streaming from his lips. Steve didn’t give a shit how many dishes he broke; he was just glad to have him back.

He tried to be patient, not wanting to push, unsure of what had been unlocked during the reprogramming process. Did Bucky remember what they’d been to each other, both before and during the war? Steve was afraid to ask, not wanting to upset whatever delicate balance had been established between them. He promised himself he would wait, that he wouldn’t force the issue. It wasn’t easy.

“Mornin’ Buck,” he murmured, wandering past Bucky in route to the kitchen in the opulent apartment they were currently sharing in Wakanda, thanks to T’Challa.

“Steve,” Bucky nodded, a smirk dancing across his lips.

“What’s so funny?” Steve asked, pouring himself a giant cup of coffee and taking a huge gulp, wincing as the too hot liquid burned his tongue.

“Just wondering how long it was gonna be before you dragged your ass out of bed.”

“I was tired.” It didn’t help that he couldn’t sleep most nights, wondering what Bucky was thinking, what Bucky was doing, wishing he was brave enough to cross the apartment to Bucky’s room and ask. More than seventy years had gone by and he was still worried that Bucky didn’t want him. Shit, he wasn’t even sure if Bucky remembered what they’d had.

He sat on one of the stools at the kitchen counter, staring out the window at the gorgeous Wakandan sky. It was really beautiful here, peaceful, a place to heal. For both of them. He sighed and scrubbed a hand over his face.

“What’s wrong?”

“Shit!” Steve jumped, hot coffee sloshing over the side of his cup and all over the counter. He hadn’t heard Bucky come up behind him.

“Sorry,” Bucky murmured. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”

“It’s okay,” Steve chuckled. “I was just lost in my thoughts is all and I didn’t hear you coming.”

“Yeah?” Bucky leaned on the counter beside him, shoulder to shoulder with Steve. “What were you thinking about?”

Steve’s heart hammered in his chest and thin sheen of sweat broke out across his forehead. He dragged in a deep breath, wondering if he dared admit to Bucky that what he’d been thinking about was, well, him and what they’d once had.

“Buck...I...um, I think, we, uh -” he stammered.

Bucky’s hand slid across the counter, the fingers of his right hand curling around Steve’s left.

Steve turned his hand over, clasping Bucky’s tight. He turned to look at his friend, ice blue eyes meeting stormy gray ones.

“I remember,” Bucky whispered, his forehead resting against Steve’s.

“Wh-what?”

“I remember us,” Bucky replied. “You and me.” He squeezed Steve’s hand. “I remember.”


	2. Cuddling

While Bucky remembered a lot of things, he didn’t remember everything, so they were still taking things slow. Bucky was afraid that he would hurt Steve, still unsure of the strength of the new arm, and worried that his head still wasn’t in the right place to jump back into any kind of relationship. Steve agreed with him, not wanting to push his friend and former lover. He’d waited more than seventy years to be with him, he could wait a little longer.

Their days were spent talking, exploring Bucky’s memories, rediscovering his past, and learning about Steve’s. Bucky wanted to know everything, every detail of Steve’s life since his fall from the train. They explored Wakanda, the city and the outlying area, learning the customs and the language, falling in love with the beautiful, innovative country. Steve never wanted to leave. Evenings were for reading, or in Steve’s case, drawing, unless Bucky pulled him away to watch some television show he’d discovered. He was obsessed ‘binge watching’ something Shuri had brought to his attention, and he loved to have Steve by his side while they watched one ridiculous show after another. Steve was happy to oblige.

Despite going to bed alone every night, Steve was finally able to sleep, content in the knowledge that Bucky remembered him and, more importantly, remembered what they’d had. They were learning what it was like to be together again, taking things slow and easy. It was good.

The screams pulled him from sleep, sending him stumbling to his feet, grabbing his shield, and racing through the apartment in his boxers. His slid to a stop in front of Bucky’s door and eased it open.

Bucky was lying in his bed, twisted in the blankets, thrashing wildly, loud, agonizing crues coming from him, the sound filling the quiet apartment. Steve set his shield by the door and hurried to the side of the bed. He dropped to his knees and grabbed Bucky’s hand, murmuring his name.

His eyes popped open, though Steve wasn’t sure at first that Bucky recognized him. He grumbled something incoherent as he pushed himself up on one elbow, his hair hanging in his eyes, visibly shuddering.

“St-steve,” he whispered.

“Yeah, Buck, it’s me,” Steve said. “You okay?”

“Bad dream,” Bucky mumbled, his voice thick and gritty. “Sorry.”

“Nothing to be sorry about, ya jerk,” Steve smiled. “Scared me, though.”

“Sorry,” Bucky repeated.

“Stop apologizing,” Steve chuckled. “You good?”

Bucky sucked in a deep breath, his eyes darting around the room. “Do...do you mind staying?” he asked.

“Nah, as long as you promise not to hog the blankets,” Steve replied.

“Deal,” Bucky murmured, laughing quietly..

Steve pulled the covers back and slipped into the bed, Bucky moving so he was an arm’s length away. They laid like that, staring at each other across the bed, the only light coming from the full moon outside the window.

“I don’t bite, Bucky,” Steve murmured.

“I didn’t want to assume anything,” Bucky shrugged.

Steve slid across the bed and pulled Bucky into his arms, tucking Bucky’s head under his chin. Bucky sighed, rested his head on Steve’s chest, his body noticeably relaxing. He pushed his knee between Steve’s thighs, snuggling closer.

“I don’t remember being the little spoon,” he chuckled, his breath warm against Steve’s skin.

“You never were,” Steve laughed. “Even after I was bigger than you, you always had to be the one doing the cuddling. This is...different.”

“Bad different?” Bucky asked.

“Never,” Steve whispered, his arms tightening around Bucky.


	3. Gaming

“What is this?” Steve asked, stepping over Bucky’s outstretched legs and dropping to the couch beside him.

“Shuri brought it by,” Bucky replied. “It’s called a Wii, and this is Mario Kart.”

“Video games,” Steve nodded. “Tony’s company had a division that made them.”

“Stark? Really? I thought he only made weapons?” Bucky said.

“Once upon a time, that was all he did,” Steve explained. “But after he was kidnapped, saw his own weapons used to kill people, he changed and he made changes to his company. Stark Industries does a lot of things. So much more than a lot of people know.” He shifted closer to Bucky, peering over his shoulder at the controller in his hands. “So, Shuri brought this over?”

“She said it would help with the arm, small motor movements,” Bucky shrugged. “So far I suck. I think I’ve driven off the road six or seven times.” Just as the words left his mouth, the car he was controlling on the screen careened off the road, followed by an electronic death march of some sort, the sound making Steve chuckle.

“Hey! No laughing,” Bucky muttered. He snatched a second controller from the table and tossed it in Steve’s lap. “You try it. I doubt you’ll be any better than I am.”

He wasn’t any better, in fact he might have been worse, though Bucky had the advantage of having played for a few hours longer Steve. Despite his multiple deaths in Mario Kart, Steve was laughing, deep belly laughs that had him doubled over and nearly falling to the floor. It wasn’t long before both he and Bucky were rolling on the floor laughing, the game now a competition to see who could survive the course longer. Neither of them were faring well.

But they kept at it, late into the night, until they’d somewhat mastered the game. Once they each had that down, it turned into a fierce competition, one that both of them were determined to win. Hours later, they were in a stand-off, head to head in a fierce battle for dominance.

Frustrated, Steve tossed the remote on the table. Bucky was ahead by three games and Steve wasn’t going to catch up.

“This game sucks,” he mumbled. “I give up.”

“It only sucks because you’re losing,” Bucky chuckled. “And you are a very sore loser.”

Steve stretched out on the couch, one arm thrown over Bucky, who was sitting on the floor in front of him. He pressed a kiss to Bucky’s cheek, attempting to distract him.

“You’re a cheater,” Bucky shook his head.

“I thought I was a sore loser,” Steve said.

“It’s possible to be both,” Bucky shrugged.

“I can’t be a cheater when I’ve given up,” Steve laughed. “I’ll just lie here and watch you. That’s more fun anyway.”

Bucky turned his head and pressed a kiss to Steve’s cheek, earning himself a grin from the super soldier. “You’re the best,” he whispered.

“Don’t you forget it,” Steve mumbled.

“Never again,” Bucky grinned.


	4. On a Date

 

“A date?” Bucky mumbled, as if he’d never heard the word before.

“Yeah, Buck, a date,” Steve replied. “You know, those things you used to go on with girls before you figured out I was the one you wanted.”

Bucky looked shocked, his mouth falling open. “What?”

“You don’t remember?” Steve asked.

“I...I don’t know,” Bucky said, staring at a spot over Steve’s right shoulder. “I, well, I remember us going out sometimes -”

“Always with girls, Buck,” Steve corrected him. “You and I would double date, not that any of the girls wanted to date me. They were only being nice to me because of you. We never dated. It wasn’t like we lived in a time when we could openly date, anyway. Then there was the war, which you know, made it hard to do any kind of dating. Which brings us to the present.”

“So, you wanna go on a date?” Bucky grinned. “Where exactly did you want to go?”

“I’ll show you,” Steve smiled. “Just agree to go on a date with me.”

“Okay, okay,” Bucky laughed. “I’ll go.”

* * *

They walked out of their respective rooms at the same time, both of them casually dressed in clean jeans and button down shirts. Steve couldn’t help but chuckle at how similarly they were dressed, even down to the color of their shirts. 

“We’re spending too much time together, punk,” Bucky laughed.

“Obviously, jerk,” Steve grinned.

“Alright, where are we going?” Bucky asked as they walked through the halls and down the stairs, finally emerging on the crowded street. They walked several blocks, turning down a side street and heading for a small park nestled between two buildings. They wandered down one of the paths until they reached a small picnic table nestled among some trees. Bucky stopped several feet from the table.

“What’s this?” He was eyeing the table warily, unsure what Steve had up his sleeve.

“Our date,” Steve smiled.

“This is our date?” he asked, turning to look at Steve. “We’re not going to a restaurant or something?”

Steve shook his head. “Nope. We’re having club sandwiches, potato salad, pickles, and apple pie for dessert.”

“Where the hell did you find all that stuff?” Bucky laughed.

“Find?” Steve scoffed. “I’ll have you know I  _ made _  all that stuff.

“When did you have time to do that?” Buck seemed surprised.

“While you were done in the lab with Shuri,” Steve shrugged. “It’s all your favorites, right?”

“I can’t believe you remembered.” He took Steve’s hand in his, squeezing it gently. “This is...this is really great.”

“Come on,” Steve said, tugging on Bucky’s hand, urging him toward the table. “Let’s eat.”


	5. Kissing

 

One of Steve’s favorite memories of Bucky was the memory of their first kiss. It had happened late one night after they’d returned to their small apartment in Brooklyn. Most of the night had been spent at a small nightclub downtown with some of Bucky’s friends from school. It had been fun, hanging out with Bucky and his friends, more fun than they’d had in a long time. They’d drank a lot and danced a lot before heading home in the midst of the winter’s first snow flurry.

Steve had more to drink than he should have, which always happened when he went out with his best friend, so he’d found himself barely able to stand or even walk. He ended up leaning on Bucky most of the way home, Bucky’s arm around his shoulders. Once they were in the apartment, Bucky had turned to him, brushing the snow from his hair, rubbing his arms to warm him, murmuring about Steve freezing to death.

Even now, seventy some odd years later, he could remember how close Bucky was standing to him, how he smelled like whiskey and cigarettes and  _ Bucky _ , and how a sudden surge of emotion had him pushing up on his toes, his lips crashing into Bucky’s. He recalled the dread that had filled him once he realized what he’d done.

“Oh God, Buck, I-I’m so sorry, I don’t know -”

Bucky had cut him off, his arms sliding around Steve and hauling him against his chest, his lips on Steve’s, kissing him breathless. After the shock and the surprise had worn off, and they had a minute to catch their breath and talk about what had happened, they’d fallen into bed, sharing kisses until they’d both dozed off. It had been one of the best nights of Steve’s life.

Over the years, Steve had gone back to that memory, time and time again, pulling it out and examining it, reminding himself of the love that he and Bucky had shared. It had carried him through a lot of difficult times, while also reminding him what had been taken from him.

Bucky found him sitting on the small balcony overlooking the city, reminiscing about that night. He dropped into the chair beside him, bumping his shoulder into Steve’s.

“I was wondering where you disappeared to,” Bucky said, propping his feet on the small but sturdy table in front of them. “You okay?”

“Just thinking,” Steve replied.

“About what?” Bucky asked carefully, almost as if he was afraid of the answer.

Steve blushed, wondering if he should tell Bucky what he’d been thinking about. They hadn’t kissed, not really, nothing more than a peck on the cheek or maybe the forehead, but not what Steve thought of as a  _ real _  kiss. He didn’t want to pressure Bucky or push him to do anything he wasn’t ready to do, so discussing their first kiss and how much it had meant to him was frightening as hell. What if a wrong move turned Bucky away?

“Steve?”

He shook himself free of the insane thoughts running through his head, cleared his throat, and turned to Bucky. “I was thinking about our first kiss,” he murmured.

“Our...our first kiss?” Bucky said. He made a face, an adorable face if anyone had asked Steve’s opinion, and blew out a long breath. “Is that a good thing or, uh, a bad thing?”

Steve smiled and nudged Bucky in the ribs. “It was a good thing, Buck. A really good thing.” He hesitated for a second before throwing caution to the wind and saying what he was thinking. “Do you, uh, remember it?”

Bucky shook his head, rising to his feet, irritation crossing his features. He crossed the balcony to stand at the railing, gripping it so tight his knuckles were white. “I-I don’t remember…” The distress was evident in his voice.

Steve shot out of his chair and hurried to Bucky’s side. He wrapped a hand around his elbow, forcing him to turn around, urging Bucky to look at him.

“Hey, Buck, it’s okay,” Steve said. “I don’t expect you to remember everything. I know it’s going to take time.”

“I should remember, though,” Bucky growled. “This...it makes me crazy, not being able to remember everything. Especially something so important. I’m sorry, Steve.”

He wasn’t quite sure what came over him, all he knew was he had an overwhelming urge to get that look of despair off of Bucky’s face. Steve dug his fingers into Bucky’s arm, dragging him close, so they were chest to chest, his other hand cupping the back of Bucky’s head, his fingers tangling in his hair, twisting the strands. He leaned over and pressed a soft kiss to Bucky’s mouth. 

Bucky sighed, his hand fisting in the front of Steve’s shirt, his mouth opening to let Steve in, their bodies pressed together, the kiss quickly deepening. When they finally broke apart, they were both gasping for air.

“I wish I could remember -” Bucky whispered.

“We’ll make new memories,” Steve murmured, his lips brushing against Bucky’s. “I promise.”


	6. Wearing Each Other's Clothes

Steve stopped dead in his tracks halfway across the spacious living room, turning to stare at Bucky, who was sprawled across the couch, half asleep, some nineties sitcom on the television. They’d just gotten back from their morning run, showered, and now they were ready to eat. Somehow, cooking had fallen to Steve. He wasn’t awful at it, just basic, keeping it simple with bacon, eggs, and toast most mornings, sandwiches for lunch, and more often than not, they found a local place to eat dinner.

But that wasn’t what had stopped him on the way to the kitchen. What had given him pause was the fact that Bucky was wearing one of his t-shirts and what he suspected were his black running pants.

“What are you staring at, punk?” Bucky murmured, lifting his head and squinting at Steve.

“Um, my clothes on your lazy ass?” Steve muttered.

“I’m not lazy, I’m recuperating,” Bucky chuckled, giving Steve his best grin.

“Don’t throw Shuri’s words at me,” Steve laughed. “And quit changing the subject. Those are my clothes, right?”

Bucky took a second to glance down at himself, then back up at Steve. “I believe so, yes,” he shrugged. “Does that bother you?”

Bucky’s question took Steve by surprise. It wasn’t that he cared so much that Bucky was wearing his clothes, it had just taken him by surprise. Back in Brooklyn, he had been the one wearing Bucky’s shirt or jacket, literally drowning in them, but finding comfort in putting on his boyfriend’s clothes. It wasn’t like Bucky could fit into his stuff, not when Steve was literally half his size. During the war, they’d had their uniforms, and while they’d shared a tent or barracks, they’d been careful to make sure no one would suspect they were anything other than friends, which meant, no wearing each other’s clothes. So, he’d never actually seen Bucky wearing his clothes before. To see Bucky so casually lounging around in one of his shirts and his favorite running pants, it was disconcerting, though not in a bad way.

“Steve? Does it bother you?”

“Uh, no, actually it doesn’t,” Steve smiled. “Just, different, that’s all. But I could get used to it.”

Bucky reclined against the back of the couch again. “Me, too,” he grinned.


	7. Shopping

 

“What are you doing?” Bucky asked, leaning over Steve’s shoulder to look at the iPad balanced on Steve’s lap.

“Shopping,” he replied.

“I know that.” Bucky flicked his ear before jumping over the back of the couch and crowding up next to him. “I should have asked what are you buying?”

“Just some books,” Steve shrugged. “I couldn’t find them in T’Challa’s library and I’ve been wanting to read them, so I figured I’d order them. I also ordered new sketchbooks because I filled the two I have and I really like the quality of that paper.”

“We could go out and buy this stuff, you know, out where the people are?”

“I know, Buck, I just...I worry -”

“You? Worry?” Bucky chuckled. “The king of overthinking? Surely you jest?”

“Very funny,” Steve grumbled, poking Bucky in the ribs, pleased when he jumped. Apparently he was still ticklish.

“You know that T’Challa said we’re perfectly safe here. He’s given us asylum and as long as we are within Wakanda’s borders, no one can arrest us for your supposed war crimes.”

“Our war crimes,” Steve corrected. “Though I am the only one who broke my friends out of the Raft.” He shifted, turning his body towards Bucky, his hand resting on Bucky’s new vibranium arm. “I know what T’Challa said, but that doesn’t mean I don’t worry that some covert group will sneak in here and kidnap us in the middle of the night -”

“I’d like to see them try,” Bucky muttered. He tapped Steve in the leg. “So, you think if we stay hidden, online shopping and never leaving the apartment, we’ll be safer. Steve, we’ve been all over the city and the surrounding countryside, why are you so worried all of a sudden?”

Steve sighed heavily, shaking his head. “Because I feel like it’s too good to be true, that all of this...” he gestured around the room before turning his focus back to Bucky, “...all of this could end at any time. I’m trying to keep that from happening. If that means I have to do my shopping online and keep a low profile, well then, that’s what I’ll do.”

Bucky plucked the iPad from Steve’s hand and set it on the table. He moved closer, his arm sliding around Steve’s waist, his forehead resting against Steve’s. “We’re gonna be okay.”

“But -”

He pressed a finger to Steve’s lips, silencing him. “Would you, for once, not overthink things? Let’s just try to enjoy this as long as we can, okay? Forget the outside world and worrying about when our world is going to implode and just...live. Please?”

“Okay,” Steve sighed, though his reluctance was obvious in the tone of his voice. “I’ll try.”

Bucky grinned and pressed a kiss to Steve’s lips. “That’s all I can ask.”


	8. Formal Wear

 

“So much for keeping a low profile,” Steve muttered, straightening his tie in the full length bathroom mirror.

“What are you grumbling about?” Bucky asked, leaning on the doorframe and eyeing Steve up and down.

“Didn’t we just have a conversation about keeping a low profile? And now we’re going to some fancy dinner at the palace with a bunch of visiting dignitaries?”

“We’re going because T’Challa asked and he’s done so much for us -”

“- we owe him at least this much,” Steve finished. He scrubbed a hand over his face and pushed a hand through his hair before turning away from the mirror to look at Bucky.

Bucky was wearing a dark blue tux with a white shirt and black tie, with his hair pulled back in a low bun at the nape of his neck. The fingers of his metal hand were twitching nervously against his leg and he kept shifting from foot to foot. If Steve hadn’t been so worried about the low profile he’d wanted to keep being thrown to shit, he would have noticed earlier that Bucky was on pins and needles. He felt like an ass.

“You okay, Buck?”

Bucky shrugged, but he didn’t meet Steve’s eyes, instead he continued staring at the floor. “I haven’t been to something like this in well, shit, more years than I remember. And I’m sure the last time I was at something like this, I was there to...well, you know -”

“That wasn’t you -”

“I know you think that Steve, but it was me. Whether you like it or not, I did those things,” Bucky murmured, still not meeting Steve’s eyes.

Steve crossed the room in two long strides, catching Bucky’s hand in his. “You aren’t that person anymore,” he insisted. “You’re James Buchanan Barnes, not the Asset, not the Winter Soldier. You’re Bucky. My Bucky.” He kissed the corner of Bucky’s mouth and squeezed his hand.

“You’re so cheesy,” Bucky chuckled.

“Hey, anything to lighten the mood,” he laughed. “Now, seeing as how we’re both dressed to the nines, what do you say we go have a good time? I promise not to worry about the low profile if you promise not to worry about, well, everything.”

“That’s a change of pace, for both of us,” Bucky mumbled.

“Yeah,” Steve agreed, “so let’s embrace it, okay?”

“If you say so,” Bucky shrugged.

Steve punched him lightly on the shoulder. “I do say so. So, put on a smile and let’s do this.”

“Fine, but when we get back, I’m gonna need a beer. Or maybe ten. We’ll see how the night goes.”

“Deal,” Steve said. “And trust me, I’ll be joining you.”

Steve loved the sound of Bucky’s laughter flowing over him as they made their way out of the apartment. He could listen to that sound for the rest of his life.


	9. Hanging out with Friends

 

Steve and Bucky had gone to T’Challa’s dinner, expecting to meet the visiting dignitaries and make a good impression, what they hadn’t expected was to see Natasha and Sam. It had made the evening a bit easier to endure, even though Bucky wasn’t one hundred percent convinced that one or both of them wouldn’t have taken him out if given the chance. He had the distinct impression that neither of them were overly fond of Steve’s charity case.

The evening dragged on, despite the appearance of Steve’s friends, until Bucky thought he might go crazy. Thankfully, Shuri must have noticed, because shortly after Bucky saw her whispering in T’Challa’s ear, the King of Wakanda came over to thank them for coming and letting them off the hook for the remainder of the night. He and Steve parted ways with Natasha and Sam, with promises to meet them the next day, early, so they could catch up. Back at the apartment, Bucky got his promised beer and after mumbling something about being utterly exhausted, he disappeared into his room, closing the door behind him, effectively shutting Steve out.

That hadn’t been his intention, but he’d needed some time to process the appearance of Steve’s friends. While they had helped Steve, and by default Bucky, he knew they didn’t approve of him. He couldn’t blame them, after all, he was a murderer and one of the reasons they were all on the run from every government in the world. Being Steve’s friend didn’t excuse his past transgressions.

And that was another thing. Did they know the truth about he and Steve? Did they know that they had been so much more than friends all those years ago? They might not know for sure, though Bucky was sure they suspected.

Bucky stripped off his tux and hung it carefully in the closet, downed the rest of his beer, and slipped between the cool sheets. He drifted in and out of sleep, worries about the next day keeping him from resting.

* * *

A sharp knock at his door, followed by Steve’s voice calling his name, drew him from the restless slumber he’d fallen into a few short hours ago. Bucky tossed the blankets aside and struggled to his feet, rubbing his gritty eyes. He threw on some clothes and opened the doors, grunting at the three people standing in the kitchen drinking coffee on his way to the bathroom.

Once he’d splashed some water on his face and brushed his teeth, he felt a little more human, human enough to join the others in the kitchen. Thankfully, Steve had a cup of coffee ready for him, shoving it into his hands and brushing a kiss across his lips before returning to his conversation with Nat and Sam.

Bucky expected some kind of reaction from either of Steve’s friends, but they didn’t seemed phased at all. He sipped his coffee and listened, occasionally contributing to the conversation. Before he knew it, it was like they were all old friends; Sam was giving him Netflix recommendations, while Natasha was giving Steve recipe recommendations, which would definitely make Bucky’s life easier. Who knew the Black Widow could cook?

To his surprise, Bucky was actually disappointed when Sam and Nat announced they needed to go. He’d found himself enjoying the time spent with Steve’s friends; it gave him a new perspective on the super soldier. Though, he was a bit resentful when Natasha spent nearly twenty minutes trying to convince Steve he should come with them, “just for this one mission”. Thankfully, Steve declined, though Bucky could have sworn there was a wistful, almost wanting expression on his face.

“Good to see you, Barnes,” Sam said, shaking his hand. “Keep an eye on our boy, make sure he behaves himself.”

“Will do,” Bucky nodded, smiling.

Natasha eyed him up and down before stepping so close he could smell her lightly scented perfume. It made him slightly uncomfortable, having her that close, and he didn’t know why.

“Steve said you’re remembering more and more everyday?” She cocked her head and to one side and lowered her voice. “Do you remember me?”

“Remember you? I remember seeing you at the airport -”

“No, not the airport, Barnes. Before that. Way before that.” She crossed her arms, glaring at him, making him feel small despite her diminutive size.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Natasha,” Bucky shrugged. “Sorry.”

“Fine,” Nat huffed. “But if and when you remember, we should talk.”

All Bucky could do was watch her walk away, Sam trailing after her. 


	10. Making Out

He wasn’t sure why he was nervous. After all, it was Steve. He could remember kissing Steve, touching Steve, making love to Steve, more times than he could count, but for some reason that didn’t change the fact that there was a weird knot of anxiety sitting in the pit of his stomach. Maybe because they hadn’t done anything more than exchange a kiss here and there, nothing more. Bucky knew that Steve was trying to protect him, that he didn’t want to rush anything, but Bucky was tired of waiting. He wanted more, maybe not everything right away, but  _ more _ .

Bucky pushed a hand through his hair as he made his way to the living room, pulling it back with the rubber band he kept around his wrist. Steve was sitting on the couch, his sketchbook on his lap, jazz playing quietly on the stereo as he sketched. Bucky sat down beside him, close enough that their legs were touching. 

“Hey, Buck, what’s up?” he murmured, his eyes darting up to look at Bucky, a hint of a smile on his face. 

Bucky took the sketchbook from Steve’s hands and set it on the table before sliding his hands up Steve’s chest and over his shoulders to cup his head in his hands, his vibranium thumb caressing Steve’s cheekbone. He leaned over him and pressed a soft kiss to his lips.

“Hi,” he whispered.

“H-hi,” Steve smiled, his arms circling Bucky’s waist. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I just wanna try something.” He pulled Steve under him, slotting himself between the super soldier’s legs so they were chest to chest, his mouth slanting over Steve’s, his tongue dancing over his lower lip.

Steve sighed, his mouth opening, his fingers digging into Bucky’s ass, tugging him closer, groaning a little when Bucky ground against him. He traced the line of Bucky’s spine, dragging Buck’s t-shirt up his back, a shiver racing through him as the cool air hit his skin. Steve yanked it over his head and tossed it to the floor, then his hands were in Bucky’s hair, pulling the rubber band out of it, letting the chestnut locks fall over Bucky’s shoulders.

Bucky growled, the sound rumbling through his chest. He kissed a trail down Steve’s neck, biting at the spot where Steve’s neck met his shoulder, drawing a groan from the man sprawled on the couch beneath him.

“God, Buck, what the hell?” Steve moaned. “Is this what you wanted to try?”

“Damn right,” Bucky murmured, his breath hot on Steve’s skin.

Steve’s eyes closed as Bucky’s attention returned to his neck, sucking and marking him. “Yeah, I’m good with that,” Steve muttered.


	11. Eating Ice Cream

 

“Do you know how long it’s been since I had ice cream?” Bucky mumbled, around a mouthful of the cold substance.

“Obviously a long time,” Steve laughed, dropping two more scoops of the chocolate and vanilla swirl ice cream in Bucky’s bowl before adding another to his own bowl. He put the empty ice cream carton in the trash before leaning against the counter, his eyes on Bucky.

“Years, Stevie,” he grinned, “it’s been years.”

Steve blushed and shook his head. It had been a long time since he’d heard Bucky use his nickname - one he’d nearly forgotten and really only let Bucky use - and hearing it had brought back a flood of memories.

“What?” Bucky asked, worry lines creasing his forehead. “What did I say?” 

“You called me Stevie. You haven’t done that in, well, forever.”

Bucky rinsed his bowl in the sink, watching Steve carefully out of the corner of his eye, then he set the clean bowl in the sink, crossed his arms over his chest, and settled himself beside Steve, their shoulders brushing every so often. “In my defense, I didn’t remember you,” he grinned.

Steve laughed, shoulders shaking. “True. I just...missed it, you know?” He reached around Bucky and dropped his bowl in the sink next to Bucky’s. 

Before he could move, Bucky grabbed his hand, pulling him close.

“Can I be honest with you?” he whispered.

“Of course,” Steve replied. “Always.”

“I don’t remember calling you Stevie. It just kind of came out, I didn’t think about it or anything -”

“Almost like muscle memory,” Steve nodded. “Sure.”

“I’m sorry,” Bucky shrugged, his grayish-blue eyes dropping to stare at the top of his shoes.

“What the hell for?” Steve grumbled. “You didn’t do anything.”

“I should remember -”

“Buck, you’re not going to remember everything, and I know that. Seriously, I’m not upset that you forgot some nickname you gave me when we were kids.” He put a hand on Bucky’s waist and pressed a kiss to his lips. “Stop apologizing.”

“I’m sor -” Bucky cut himself off, his mouth snapping closed so fast his teeth clicked together painfully. He shook his head and took a deep breath before giving Steve a thousand watt smile. “Alright, I’ll stop apologizing.”

“Good,” Steve grinned. “Glad to hear it.”

“If you go buy some more ice cream,” Bucky added, a smirk teasing the corners of his mouth.

“Bribery, huh?”

“I’m not above it,” Bucky shrugged.

“Fine,” Steve chuckled. “But this time I get to pick the flavor.”


	12. During Their Morning Rituals

Bucky wasn’t a morning person, in fact, he hated mornings. He tried to tell himself that most mornings, he only dragged himself out of bed to go running with Steve because his friend (or was it boyfriend? had they reached that point yet?) was so damn persistent. Steve wouldn’t even let him have a cup of coffee -  _ water, Buck, you can have water  _ \- or five damn minutes to give himself a chance to wake up. No, it was wake up, brush teeth, run, and maybe, if he was lucky, it would only be ten miles instead of fifteen or twenty. Not that Bucky couldn’t do both distances without breaking a sweat, but he wanted his coffee, damn it. Was that too much to ask?

Steve had started their morning ritual shortly after he’d arrived in Wakanda. At that time, Bucky had still been in the infirmary, but that hadn’t stopped Steve. He’d shown up every morning at the same time, workout clothes on, bouncing on his toes, that smirky look on his face, and off they’d go. It had started slow, especially right after he’d come out of cryo - at Shuri’s insistence. They’d worked up to their current workout, which included running, sparring, and some weight training thrown in there a few times a week, until both Shuri and Steve had agreed he could handle more. They hadn’t varied from the routine much over the last few weeks, only letting up on the weekends. Bucky had grumbled and groaned, though secretly, he really enjoyed his morning workouts with Steve. 

At first, it had given him a chance to spend time with the man he’d remembered as not only his best friend his entire life, but as his lover. Even when Bucky hadn’t been sure that Steve wanted that with him again, he’d kept at it, content to take what he could get. If that meant dragging his ass out of bed at the crack of dawn everyday to spend time with Steve, so be it. After Shuri had sprung him and they’d moved into their shared apartment -  _ you need time to heal, Buck _ \- it was another way to keep Steve close, work on breaking down that barrier he’d seemed to build between them.

But he had to begrudgingly admit, that the real reason he dragged himself out of bed every day was because it gave him a reason to be with Steve. Not that he needed a reason, they were practically inseparable, but it allowed Bucky the chance to spend time with him, to learn and explore the relationship he thought they’d lost. If that meant six a.m. wake up calls, he’d do it.

“Bucky!” Two short raps on his door, just like every morning. “Let’s go!”

He dragged himself out of bed, yanked on his clothes, and made his way to the bathroom. Five minutes later, he’d brushed his teeth, splashed some water on his face, and he was standing in front of Steve who was, for God’s sake, stretching. He grunted something incoherent, which got Steve’s attention.

“Mornin’ sleepyhead,” Steve grinned.

“Hey,” he responded, adding an extra dose of grumpy to his voice.

Steve cupped the back of his head, dragging him in close and kissing him, hard. Bucky closed his eyes and let himself relax into the kiss. Every morning, he’d act grumpy and Steve would respond by giving him a good morning kiss.

And that was the reason he dragged himself out of bed every morning.


	13. Spooning

 

Bucky kicked restlessly at the blankets covering his legs. He couldn’t sleep, not after another nightmare had violently assaulted him a little after midnight. This one had been too real; images of him beating Steve senseless had filled his head until he woke with his hand over his mouth, holding back the scream. Problem was, every time he closed his eyes, he could see Steve’s face, bruised, swollen, cut to shit, and it was making it impossible to sleep.

After twenty minutes of tossing and turning, he threw the blankets off and made his way to the kitchen. As he downed a bottle of water, he stared at Steve’s half closed bedroom door on the other side of the apartment. They were still sleeping in separate rooms, for now, though Bucky didn’t think that would last much longer.

Bucky scrubbed a hand over his face. He could go back to bed, try to sleep, but he didn’t think that would happen. He couldn’t shake the image of Steve bruised and bleeding from his head and he wouldn’t be able to until he saw for himself that he was okay. Decision made, he crossed the apartment, moving quietly, stopping just outside the door, pushing it open a few inches.

The blinds were open, the light from the full moon cascading over the bed. Steve was sleeping, as Bucky expected, his perfect face, illuminated by the moonlight, unmarred. The wounds he couldn’t stop picturing not really there. Now maybe Bucky could go to sleep.

But instead of going back to his room, he found himself standing beside the bed, lifting the covers and sliding into it. He wrapped his arm, the vibranium arm, around Steve’s waist, pulling him back against his chest.

“Buck?” Steve breathed. “That you?”

“Yeah, Stevie, it’s me.”

“You okay?”

“Couldn’t sleep,” Bucky murmured. “Sorry I woke you.”

“S’kay,” Steve sighed, intertwining his fingers with Bucky’s and tugging his arm all the way around his waist.

Bucky pressed a kiss to the middle of his back, right between the shoulder blades. “Now who’s the little spoon?” he whispered.

“I heard that,” Steve mumbled.


	14. Doing Something Fun Together

 

“We’re going to do what?” Bucky mumbled.

“We’re going out to the Border Tribe with Okoye,” Steve explained. “T’Challa thought it might be a good idea, get us out, meeting people. He thought it would be...diplomatic of us.”

“What about hiding in here away from the world?” Bucky smirked. “I thought that was what we were doing?”

Steve narrowed his eyes, attempting to glare at Bucky, but instead he started laughing. “Alright, you win,” he chuckled. “I get it, hiding out in the apartment isn’t so much fun. Do you want to go or not?”

“Yes, I’ll go,” Bucky replied.

They left an hour later to meet Okoye, and about twenty minutes after that, they were striding across a beautiful green field toward some scattered homes surrounded by large pens.

“Are those white rhinos?” Steve asked incredulously, pointing toward the pens.

“They are,” Okoye nodded. “Aren’t they beautiful?”

“Gorgeous,” Steve nodded. “What do you think, Buck?”

But Bucky wasn’t behind him anymore. Steve had a brief moment in which panic twisted through his gut and fear crawled up his spine. He sucked in a deep breath and turned in a slow circle, his eyes eventually coming to rest on Bucky, who was standing at the edge of one of the pens, his vibranium hand resting on the horn of one of the white rhinos, a slight smile on his face.

“She’s my favorite,” Okoye laughed, joining Bucky beside the majestic creature. She reached out to pat the rhino, earning herself a sloppy lick to the face in return.

“She’s astounding,” Bucky said, his voice filled with awe. “Utterly astounding.”

Steve joined them, his hand in the middle of Bucky’s back, listening carefully as Okoye explained the care and feeding of the animals, how they were trained, and how much time and energy was devoted to each. Bucky was fascinated, asking questions, prompting Okoye when she seemed unsure what else they might want to know, trying to learn as much as he could. Steve stayed in the background, his enjoyment coming from watching Bucky.

The day flew by, much quicker than either Steve or Bucky had anticipated. Before they knew it, they were back at the apartment, indulging in a huge meal and a couple of beers.

Bucky dropped his empty beer bottle to the table and stretched his arms above his head. “I don’t know about you, but I need a shower,” he murmured, his nose wrinkling. “I smell like a rhinoceros.”

“You’re not wrong,” Steve agreed, chuckling under his breath. He downed the last of his own beer. “Not even a little.”

“Screw you,” Bucky muttered, though Steve could hear an undercurrent of laughter in words. “Thanks for today, by the way.”

“I don’t know wh -”

“Don’t even bother trying to lie,” Bucky shook his head, dropping his dirty dishes in the sink before leaning against the counter and staring at Steve. “Okoye slipped and told me you planned all this. I really appreciate it.”

Steve blushed, not meeting Bucky’s eyes, his shoulders shrugging. “You’re welcome.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Didn’t want to make a big deal out of it. Figured you wouldn’t either.”

“You know me too well,” Bucky chuckled. “Which isn’t a bad thing.” He pushed a hand through his hair. “But seriously, Stevie, thank you. It was a great day.”

“For me, too.”

“Now, come on,” Bucky grinned, holding his hand out to Steve. “Let’s go wash off the rhino smell.”


	15. Spoiling One Another

 

Things with Bucky were going really well, better than he had expected, so Steve had planned a special meal to celebrate their progress, intending to surprise Bucky.

What he hadn’t expected was Shuri to steal Bucky for the majority of the day, something about more tests on the new arm. She whisked him away before dawn, upsetting the breakfast in bed  _ and _  the picnic lunch idea. By the time Bucky got back to the apartment, it was early evening, he was exhausted, and he just wanted to sleep. He’d kissed Steve, asked him to wake him in a few hours to eat, gone to his room, and promptly fallen asleep.

Not one to be deterred, especially when he had his mind set on something, Steve adjusted his plans for the third time that day.

Two hours after Bucky returned, Steve was in the kitchen, muttering to himself and gathering what he would need. It took him almost another hour to get everything ready and exactly like he wanted it. Once he had his makeshift tray loaded with food, he kicked open Bucky’s door and flipped on the light.

“Christ, Steve, I’m tryin’ to sleep,” Bucky grumbled, squinting in the general direction of where Steve was standing.

“I know, but you need to eat,” Steve grinned, knowing Bucky wasn’t really upset with him; he woke up grumpy, no matter the circumstances. 

Bucky yawned and stretched, his arms over his head, his shirt pulling up to reveal his tanned skin. He pushed himself upright, elbows resting on his knees, his hair falling over his face, his eyes half open.

“Alright, I’m coming,” he muttered.

“No need to get up, I brought it to you.” Steve set the tray on the bed in front of Bucky, smiling nervously. “Bacon, eggs, hashbrowns, pancakes, and a large glass of milk.”

A smile spread slowly across Bucky’s face. “Shit, Stevie, what’d you do this for?”

“Thought you deserved it,” Steve shrugged.

Bucky shook his head. “I don’t, but I’m not going to argue with you because I’m hungry and I know it won’t do any good.”

“You’re not wrong,” Steve laughed.

“Get over here,” Bucky chuckled, sliding over to make room.

Steve joined him, the two of them eating in silence - aside from Bucky’s appreciative noises - for the next several minutes. Once the food was gone and the dishes were in the sink, Steve returned to Bucky’s room, crawled back into the bed beside Bucky, and closed his eyes.

“Steve?”

“Hmm?”

“You asleep?”

“Tryin’ to be,” Steve replied, rolling to his stomach and pulling one of Bucky’s pillows under his head. 

Bucky snorted, but he didn’t ask anymore questions. In fact, Steve was almost asleep when the bed shifted and then Bucky was sitting on the back of his thighs, straddling Steve’s legs. He slid his hands beneath Steve’s shirt, pushing it up and over his head.

He started at Steve’s lower back, his fingers digging into the muscles, working them loose. Steve relaxed as Bucky worked his way up Steve’s back, massaging the tight muscles, gentle, but with enough pressure that Steve really felt it. 

“Jesus, Buck, you’re killing me,” he groaned as unexpected desire wound its way through his gut, settling right between his legs.

Bucky leaned over and pressed a kiss to the center of Steve’s back, his hands sliding up his sides. “You spoil me, I spoil you.”


	16. Dancing

 

“I don’t dance.”

“You used to -”

Bucky shook his head. “I don’t remember us dancing.”

“Not us, Buck,” Steve corrected. “You. You used to go out every weekend, dancing.”

“You didn’t go?” Bucky murmured, a faraway look in his eyes. “You...we...we couldn’t. I used to go out with a different girl every week. Because we couldn’t.”

“Not back then,” Steve replied. “I hated it, watching you go out, knowing some dame was waiting for you. All those different girls? Drove me crazy.”

Bucky furrowed his brows and pinched the bridge of his nose. “I think...If I remember correctly, I think the reason it was always a different girl was because I didn’t want them to get attached. I knew who I loved, who I wanted, and it wasn’t them, Stevie.”

Steve blushed and his heart skipped a beat. Bucky remembered more and more everyday, surprising him with the depth of his memories. It was more than he’d ever hoped for, so much more.

“Steve? You okay?”

“Yeah,” he nodded. “Just thinking.”

“About what?” Bucky pressed.

“Dancing,” Steve smirked.

“We’re back on that?” Bucky chuckled.

Steve shrugged, his head shaking just a little. “Guess I feel like I missed out. It’s okay, though. I don’t mind.”

Bucky reached across the table and took Steve’s hand, lacing their fingers together. “Well, maybe we need to fix that. You could teach me to dance.”

“You know how to dance,” Steve laughed.

“Okay, but I don’t remember much, so you could teach me again. That wouldn’t be so bad, would it? I bet I could make it worth your while?” 

A grin spread across Steve’s face. “Well, if that’s the case, I’m in.”

Bucky shook with laughter and squeezed Steve’s hand. “So, when do we start?”

Steve rose to his feet, dragging Bucky with him. “Right now, old man. Let’s go.”

“You’re on,” Bucky smiled. “Just, nothing fancy, okay?”

“I promise. Only easy stuff, like slow dancing,” Steve winked. “Wouldn’t want to wear you out.”

“Not if I’m making it worth your while,” Bucky murmured, his grin widening as he watched Steve choose some music. “Wouldn’t want me too tired for that.”


	17. Baking

The sound of pans crashing to floor brought Steve running from his room. He slid to a halt in front of Bucky, who was standing in the kitchen with a sheepish grin on his face, half of the pans from the cupboard spread out in front of him.

“What the hell, Buck?”

“Sorry,” Bucky shrugged. “I was looking for a cookie sheet -”

“Why are you looking for a cookie sheet?”

“I was going to bake some cookies,” Bucky replied. “Why else would I want a cookie sheet?” He looked genuinely perplexed by Steve’s question.

“A multitude of reasons,” Steve said. “Next question, why are you making cookies?”

A blush colored Bucky’s cheeks. “You do all the cooking, which is great, but I thought it might be nice if I did something for once. So, I thought I’d bake cookies. I seem to remember chocolate chip being one of your favorites.”

“It is,” Steve nodded. He surveyed the kitchen, the ingredients laid out on the counter, the cookbook propped in the corner, and the oven already pre-heating. Bucky hadn’t cooked back in the day, when they’d lived together in Brooklyn. He’d left that to Steve. The same was true now; old habits as they said. Steve couldn’t help but smile.

“Want some help?”

Bucky’s eyes narrowed suspiciously.

“Not because I think you can’t cook,” Steve hurried to add. “I swear. But, it might be fun to make something together.” He smiled helpfully. “If you want.”

“I want,” Bucky nodded, gesturing for Steve to join him.

A half an hour later, the cookies were in the oven, the sink was filled with dirty dishes, and they were both covered with flour after an argument over who should clean the kitchen had turned into an all out flour war.

Not that either of them were cleaning anything. Steve had Bucky pressed up against the counter, his fingers tangled in Bucky’s hair, tugging his head back as he assaulted his neck, sucking deep, purple marks into the tanned skin. Bucky’s fingers dug into Steve’s hips bruisingly tight, holding him close, quiet moans of satisfaction leaving him.

Bucky’s heart was racing, along with the thoughts in his head. Things between he and Steve had taken a turn over the last few days, moving from let’s-take-our-time to get-your-ass-in-my-bed-now and it was making his blood boil. He opened his mouth to suggest that they move to the bedroom, but he was interrupted by a loud buzzing sound filling the kitchen.

“Cookies are done,” Steve murmured, stepping back, his breathing fast and ragged.

Bucky lurched forward, cupped Steve’s head in his hands, and pressed a kiss to his lips.

“This isn’t over,” he growled. He released Steve, snatched the oven mitts from the counter, and pulled the cookies from the oven. “Let’s finish these cookies.”


	18. Going Into Battle, Side by Side

 

They burst from the trees, heading directly into battle, side by side, moving as if they were one. It was like it had once been, the two of them, together, fighting for others, fighting for the freedom of people they didn’t even know.

Bucky rushed forward, gun raised, diving into the melee without a second thought, Steve right beside him, shields up, intent on stopping the invading marauders no matter the cost. The battle raged on around them, everyone fighting, howls and screams of pain filling the air. 

They were surrounded, no chance of getting away without fighting their way out, without killing as many as they could. Steve and Bucky stood back to back, poised to fight, the sound of gunfire echoing off the trees, blood muddying the dirt around them. It was a never ending stream of insanity, a plethora of violence, everything they’d run away from, everything they’d tried to leave behind.

The final body fell to the ground with a loud grunt. Steve turned to see Bucky stumbling toward him, face cut and bruised, the knuckles on his hand dripping blood, the vibranium arm marred and dirty.

“Steve,” he gasped before falling to the ground.

* * *

Steve jerked awake, swallowing the scream rising in his throat as he struggled to sit up. A heavy weight rested on his chest, right over his heart, holding him down. He struggled to see what was crushing him, the only illumination coming from the moon. He sucked in a lungful of air and blew it out slowly before turning to see Bucky lying beside him, breathing quietly, his vibranium hand resting on Steve’s chest.

“Just a dream,” he muttered to himself. He rested his hand on Bucky’s, squeezing gently.

“You okay?” Bucky murmured.

“Yeah, I think so,” he said, scrubbing a hand over his face. “Didn’t mean to wake you.”

“Bad dream?”

“It’s no big deal,” Steve whispered. “Go back to sleep.”

“Do you wanna talk about it?”

“I was...well, we were fighting, and you were hurt…” The words were bitter in his mouth, hard to say. “It freaked me out.”

Bucky wrapped his hand around Steve’s upper arm and dragged him effortlessly across the bed, into the circle of his arms. They laid side by side, foreheads pressed together, legs tangled together, fingers intertwined, neither of them saying a word until they drifted back to sleep.


	19. Patching Each Other Up

Steve hissed as the antiseptic hit his skin, wincing as he attempted to pull away. Bucky’s hand clamped down on his shoulder, yanking him back against the chair.

“Hold still,” he growled. 

The pinch of a needle entering his skin drew another hiss from him, then he felt the familiar tug of medical thread sealing a wound. He could practically  _ hear _  Bucky fuming, the irritation coming off of him in waves.

“Spill it, Buck,” Steve mumbled.

“I can’t believe you thought you could take on Okoye, with her spear, like that.” Another stab of the needle, another tug on his skin.

“We were sparring -”

“You told her to come at you and to not hold back,” Bucky interrupted. “The Dora Milaje are deadly. Doesn’t matter if you’re a super soldier or not. They will kick your ass.”

“I know,” Steve grumbled, pointing at the six inch long, two inch deep cut on his bicep. “As you can see.”

“She could have really hurt you,” Bucky muttered. “When you tell Okoye to not hold back, trust me, she listens.”

“I know that, now,” Steve grunted as Bucky stabbed the needle into his arm, again. “Jesus, Buck, take it easy.”

“I don’t understand why you would intentionally run toward danger,” Bucky said. He paused and out of the corner of his eye Steve could see him shake his head just a little bit. “What am I saying? You always run toward the danger instead of away from it.”

“If it’s any consolation, I am sorry,” Steve murmured, glancing at Bucky and attempting to smile sweetly.

Bucky tied off the thread, snipped it close, and slapped a bandage on the wound, which was already healing. He blew out an exasperated breath and shook his head. “You just...seeing you all cut up and bleeding reminded me of when we were younger. Do you remember that time, the day I got my orders, when I found you getting your ass kicked in the alley? And you refused to back down? Lip cut, clothes a mess? You looked like crap, but you just kept going. That was when I realized that I was leaving you alone, with no one to protect you. And I knew you’d get yourself in trouble. And I was right, you managed to get yourself in trouble because the next thing I know, you show up to rescue me looking like some Greek God.”

“You call that trouble?” Steve scoffed. “I would have thought that was a good thing?”

“Everything with you is trouble, Steven Grant Rogers,” Bucky chuckled.

“It’s a good thing you love me, then,” Steve laughed.

“Damn good thing,” Bucky muttered. He kissed the bandaged cut on Steve’s arm. “A really damn good thing.”


	20. Arguing

“Why not?”

“Because he tried to kill you,” Steve sighed, his exasperation with the conversation quite clear in his voice. He and Bucky had been going around in circles for almost an hour. “And the fight? Where you lost your arm? You do remember that, right? He and I tried to kill each other.”

“He’s your friend, Steve.”

“He was my friend, Bucky. Was. Past tense.” Steve scrubbed a hand over his face and shoved his chair backwards, hard enough that it hit the kitchen cabinet and toppled over. “I think we effectively ended that friendship back in Siberia.”

“Steve -”

“I don’t want to talk about it anymore,” Steve growled. “Enough is enough.” He turned and stalked away.

Bucky waited a couple of minutes, hoping to give Steve time to cool off before pushing himself to his feet and following him out onto the patio. Steve leaned against the railing, staring out over the city, a bottle of beer dangling from his fingers.

“I said I didn’t want to talk about it anymore, Bucky,” he muttered.

“Just call him, Steve,” Bucky insisted. “You two are so damn stubborn. One of you is gonna have to give. Why can’t it be you?”

“Because I’m tired of giving in, Buck! I’m sick of always being the bigger person, sick of being the one that sucks up his feelings and does the right thing. Every time I do that it costs me someone I love. Tony was wrong about the Accords and he was wrong about you. And because he was wrong, I lost everything, Bucky, everything. It’s only by the grace of God and the goodwill of T’Challa that I still have you.”

Bucky didn’t even have time to catch his breath before Steve was gone and the sound of a slamming door echoed through the apartment. Bucky dropped into one of the chairs, his head in his hands. He just wanted to make everything right, but instead, he’d made it worse.

* * *

Steve didn’t even know what time it was when he shoved the phone and letter into the box and sealed it. A pile of papers surrounded him, some wadded up, most with stutters and starts of what he wanted to say all over them. It had taken him far longer to write the letter than he’d anticipated, but he was glad it was finally done. He’d heard Bucky moving around the apartment, but he’d never come to Steve’s bedroom door, which hadn’t surprised him. If there was anyone more stubborn than he was, it was Bucky.

He set the box on the table beside the front door before crossing the apartment to stand in front of Bucky’s door. He tapped lightly on it and pushed it open a couple of inches.

“Hey, Buck, you awake?”


	21. Making Up Afterwards

 

Bucky squinted at the clock on the bedside table. 12:37 a.m. He was awake, barely. He’d been lying in his bed, on the edge of sleep for a couple of hours as he contemplated whether or not he should go check in with Steve. They rarely went to bed angry, in face, Bucky was hard pressed to remember a time that they had - though admittedly his memory was faulty. He punched his pillow a few times, glanced toward the door, then laid down with an unnecessary sigh.

He was actually drifting off - maybe this time for real - when there was a light tap on the door, followed by Steve’s quiet question.

“Hey, Buck, you awake?”

“Yeah, come on in.” He pushed himself up on one elbow and shoved a hand through his hair.

Steve slipped inside, almost as if he was unsure of himself, moving quietly across the room to sit on the side of the bed. He picked at the corner of the blanket., refusing to meet Bucky’s eyes.

“Come on, Rogers,” Bucky muttered. “Say what you came to say.”

“I’m sorry I acted like an ass,” Steve shrugged.

“It’s okay,” Bucky replied.

“It’s not -”

“Steve, we aren’t going to agree about everything. We’re going to fight, we’re going to argue. Doesn’t change anything.”

“Have I told you I love you?” Steve smiled.

“Not today,” Bucky grinned.

“Well, I do,” Steve murmured, leaning over and pressing a kiss to Bucky’s lips.

A spark seemed to ignite deep in Bucky’s gut. He moaned, his hands on the back of Steve’s neck, tugging him close, the kiss deepening quickly. A low growl rumbled through Steve’s chest as he pushed Bucky down onto the bed and straddled his thighs. He slipped his hands beneath Bucky’s shirt, pushing it up and over his head.

Steve’s touch was like an electric current dancing across Bucky’s skin, making his nerve endings tingle, fueling the need that had been building for the last three weeks. Bucky’s head surged up, catching Steve’s lips in his, his hands tight on the super soldier’s hips.

Steve sat up, but just long enough to rip his shirt over his head, then his hands were back on Bucky, seemingly everywhere, touching, squeezing, pulling, his desire evident in every caress. He rolled his hips, drawing a low guttural groan from Bucky. God, he was going explode. Bucky dug his fingers into Steve’s hips and flipped him to his back, settling himself between his thighs. He dragged his tongue along the line of Steve’s throat, the salty tang of his skin intoxicating him even more.

Steve was moaning, hands sliding up Bucky’s back, settling in his hair, his fingers twisting around the strands, holding Bucky close.

“I want it, Stevie,” Bucky whispered. “I want you.”

Steve released him, one eyebrow quirked, a half smile on his face. “You sure, Buck?”

“Of course I’m sure,” Bucky growled, grinding his hips down against Steve’s. “I’ve never been more sure.”

Their remaining clothes were quickly discarded, then they were falling back into the bed, Steve pinning Bucky beneath him, kissing and sucking the sensitive skin beneath his ear. Bucky moaned and grabbed Steve’s ass, holding him tight while he rocked up to meet him, their half hard cocks sliding and rubbing against each other.

“Steve,” Bucky gasped.

“Yeah, Buck, I know,” he whispered. He wrapped one hand around Bucky’s cock, his finger gently tracing the thick vein on the underside, his lips pressed to Bucky’s neck, nibbling gently.

Bucky’s hips moved, thrusting in and out of Steve’s closed fist, his head thrown back, eyes closed, huffing gasps coming from him. Steve rubbed his thumb over the tender tip, teasing Bucky, stroking him as his assaulted his chest and stomach with sharp bites and soft licks.

“You got any lube or condoms?” Steve mumbled.

“S-side table drawer,” Bucky stammered, gesturing toward the bedside table.

Steve fumbled to open it even as he continued kissing Bucky. After a second he sat up, huffing in irritation as he yanked a bottle of lube and a box of condoms from the drawer. Impatient to move things along, he spilled half the box of condoms all over the bed, earning himself a chuckle from Bucky. He shoved them aside and popped open the lube, spreading a generous amount over his hand then he laid down behind Bucky, pulling him tight against his chest. He wrapped his arms around Bucky and took his leaking cock in his hand, while he gently massaged the perineum with his other hand, his finger brushing lightly against Bucky’s tight hole.

Bucky shifted restlessly, his back arching, his head falling back against Steve’s shoulder, a guttural, almost obscene moan leaving him. He reached back, his hand curling around the back of Steve head, turning his head to catch Steve’s lips in his. Steve stroked his cock as he pressed his lubed finger into Bucky, gently thrusting and curling it. It wasn’t long before Bucky was rocking his hips, pleasurable grunts falling from his lips.

Steve added a second finger to the first, scissoring him open, every thrust a little deeper, a little harder. Bucky was all out moaning, writhing in Steve’s arms, the most obscene sounds coming from him, sounds that were taking Steve apart, making his dick ache and throb.

“More,” Bucky gasped.

Steve pushed in a third finger, stretching him carefully, his mouth closing over Bucky’s pulse point, sucking greedily, thrusting deeper while Bucky pushed back against his fingers, over and over until Bucky was begging for Steve to take him.

Steve pulled his fingers free, snatched up a condom, tore it open, and slid it down his sensitive cock, wincing at the feel of it. He was so close to the edge, he wasn’t sure how much longer he could last. It wasn’t going to be easy to keep from coming before he was ready, before he could get Bucky off, but he was sure the hell going to try. He grabbed the lube and spread it down his dick, then he hooked an arm beneath one of Bucky’s legs, lifting it as he pressed the head of his cock against Bucky’s hole. He pushed in slowly, taking his time. Once he was fully seated, flush against Bucky’s ass, he exhaled, unaware that he’d been holding his breath.

“Steve,” Bucky rasped, his fingers digging into Steve’s arm as he pushed back against him, his muscles tightening around Steve, making him whimper.

Steve pressed his lips to Bucky’s ear, murmuring praises as he started thrusting, one hand wrapped around Bucky’s cock, stroking him slow and easy as he peppered kisses across his shoulders. It wasn’t long before Bucky was begging for more, begging for Steve to take him harder and faster. Steve wrapped both arms around him, one hand on Bucky’s shoulder, using it as leverage as he slammed into him. Bucky was moaning, his entire body trembling, his head thrown back in ecstasy, his cock hard and pulsing in Steve’s hand as he came with a strangled cry.

Steve buried his face in Bucky’s hair, hips moving, his own orgasm roaring through him, an intense wave of indescribable pleasure moving from the base of his spine through his body, his breath catching in his throat and his hips jerking against Bucky. 

He let out a stuttering breath and fell back onto the bed, his arms still around Bucky. He traced the edge of the vibranium arm, right where it connected to Bucky’s shoulder, pressing kisses to the center of Bucky’s back.

Bucky squirmed out of Steve’s grip, pressed a kiss to his lips, then he crawled out of bed and made his way to the bathroom. He came back a few minutes later and tossed a warm washcloth to Steve. Once they were both cleaned up, he returned to the bed and immediately wrapped himself around Steve.

“What’s this?” Steve chuckled, his arms sliding around Bucky.

“Tired,” Bucky murmured. “And it’s your turn to be the little spoon. Now, go to sleep.”

“Whatever you say, Buck.”


	22. Sleeping In

The light hit Bucky right in the face, waking him from a sound sleep. He shifted and threw an arm over his eyes. Why was it so bright in here anyway? The sun didn’t shine through his windows until late in the morning. He rolled over, trying to get away from the light by pulling the blankets and a pillow over his head.

“Quit hogging the blankets,” Steve muttered, poking him in the shoulder.

A lazy smile spread across Bucky’s face as the night’s activities came back to him. It had been a perfect night, first the make up sex, followed by a couple hours of sleep, then more sex before he and Steve had collapsed, exhausted, back into bed, and fallen asleep. Bucky had been dreading the early morning alarm that signaled the start to their day, forcing them out of bed and out the door for a run. But it had never come.

“You forget to set the alarm?” Bucky mumbled.

“Nope, I turned it off.”

“What? You turned off the alarm?” Bucky scoffed. “Surely you jest. What was it you said the other day? _I don’t care if it’s raining, snowing, a hurricane, or the end of the world, you’re getting out of that bed and moving your ass, James Buchanan Barnes_. Or something like that.”

“You’re a jerk,” Steve grumbled. “Can’t you just appreciate the fact that I gave you the day off from working out and let you sleep in? Or do you really want me to drag your ass out of bed for a fifteen mile run?”

Bucky stretched, the sheet twisting around his legs. “Nah, I think I got a good workout last night.”

Steve blushed and hid his face in the blankets, mumbling quietly under his breath and shaking his head. Bucky couldn’t help but laugh. An embarrassed Steve was always a cute Steve as far as he was concerned.

Bucky rolled over, pushing Steve to his back and pinning him down. He leaned over and kissed him, nipping roughly at Steve’s lower lip. Steve tangled his fingers in Bucky’s hair, a low growl rumbling through his chest.

“Let’s stay in bed and workout here,” Bucky whispered.

“Sounds like a good plan,” Steve nodded, his arms coming up around Bucky’s shoulders, holding him close. “Maybe we should just stay here all day.”

“Definitely.”


	23. Having a Lazy Day

“You want a beer?” Steve yelled from the kitchen.

“Isn’t a little early for a beer?” Bucky replied.

“Buck, it’s almost five.” Steve set two bottles of beer and a plate of meats and cheeses on the table in front of the couch, then he sat beside Bucky.

“Five? Seriously?”

“Seriously,” Steve chuckled. “We have done nothing all day but sit on our asses.”

“Admit it, you kind of liked it,” Bucky murmured, elbowing Steve in the ribs.

“I don’t know if I _liked_  it,” Steve shrugged. “It was okay. Not what I’m used to, though.”

“But, you could get used to it, right?”

“I didn’t say that,” Steve shook his head. “Maybe every once in a while, but not all the time. Like, once a year.”

“You’re obsessive, Stevie. You know it’s okay to take a break every now and then, don’t you?”

“Yeah, but it doesn’t feel right. I should be working -”

Bucky rolled his eyes. “I was wondering when you were going to mention work. I knew you were regretting not going with Nat and Sam.”

“I don’t regret anything,” Steve corrected him. “Especially being here with you. But, for the last ten years, since I came out of the ice, I’ve been trying to help people. It just feels weird to not be doing something.”

“That’s just it, Steve, you’ve been doing something for someone else for years, including before you went in the ice. It’s about time you did something for yourself for a change.”

Steve leaned his head against the back of the couch and closed his eyes. “I know, Buck,” he sighed. “I know it right here.” He tapped the center of his chest, then his temple. “But up here, I’m screaming at myself.”

Bucky caught Steve’s hand in his, squeezing it gently. “Yeah, well, knock it off. Stop overthinking everything. Stop overthinking  _ us _ .”

“Okay,” Steve mumbled.

“Promise me,” Bucky ordered. “Promise me you’ll stop overthinking everything.”

“I promise,” his boyfriend said, but there was a hint of irritation in his voice.

“I don’t believe you, but I’ll take what I can get,” Bucky muttered as he turned on the TV. “Now, let’s find some brainless, mind-numbing movie to watch.” 

“Fine,” Steve agreed. To his credit, he did relax, a little, snatching his beer off the table and swallowing half of it before leaning against Bucky, his feet kicked up on the end of the couch.

Bucky’s arm fell across Steve’s chest and he kissed the top of his head. Like he’d said, he’d take what he could get.


	24. Teaching Each Other to Do Something

“God damn it,” Bucky snarled as he tossed the broken pencil down on the table. “I can’t do this.”

“You can,” Steve answered patiently, taking another pencil from the package and handing it to Bucky. “Besides, Shuri said stuff like this could help with the calibrations on the arm.”

“I know,” Bucky sighed. “But, this is much harder than I thought. You make this look easy.”

“I went to school for it,” Steve chuckled. “And years of practice.”

Bucky rolled his eyes. “I can’t even draw stick figures.”

“Let’s try something easy,” Steve said. “Not stick figures.” He glanced around the kitchen, then he pushed himself out of his chair, grabbed a bowl of fruit from the counter, and set it in the center of the table.

“Try that.”

“A bowl of fruit?” Bucky scoffed. “That’s so cliche.”

“Try it, Buck. And stop arguing with me.”

“Fine,” he sighed. 

They sat in silence for a few minutes, Bucky drawing carefully with his metal hand while Steve watched over his shoulder, occasionally directing his boyfriend where to add a line or some shading.

“You’re making me nervous,” Bucky mumbled.

“I’m sorry.” Steve took a step back. “I wasn’t trying to.”

“Let me try it on my own, then you can point out all my mistakes.”

“I’m not going to point out your mistakes,” Steve sighed, moving around the table to sit across from Bucky. He grabbed his own sketchpad and a pencil, resolutely not looking at Bucky as he sketched the bowl of fruit from his own perspective.

After about ten minutes, Bucky dropped his pencil to the table and slid his drawing across the table. Steve caught it with one hand, and spun it around, doing his best to keep his face neutral. The drawing was actually pretty good, especially given that Bucky had drawn it with his left hand and doing tasks considered small motor movements was still a bit difficult with the vibranium arm.

“Buck, this is really good,” Steve smiled.

One shoulder bobbed up, then down, but Bucky was smiling, a slight blush coloring his cheeks.

“Can’t draw stick figures, my ass,” Steve muttered. “You’ve been holding out.”

“Nah,” he grinned. “Not really.” He reached for the sketchpad, which Steve quickly slid back to him. Bucky snatched up his pencil and held it loosely between two fingers. “Maybe you can teach me about shading and stuff? I’m still not so good at things like that.”

“Sure,” Steve said. “Let’s start with that apple.” He tapped the page. “Check the light coming through the window and see how it hits the apple, how it shades the banana next to it? Use the edge of the pencil and start here.”

* * *

Shuri’s phone chimed, indicating an incoming text message. She set aside the tool in her hand and grabbed it, smiling widely as the drawing of a bowl of fruit appeared. A second later, Bucky’s message appeared below it.

_ Steve is teaching me to draw. Maybe now you’ll quit bugging me to work on my small motor skills. _


	25. Getting Lost Somewhere

 

“A quick hike, huh?”

“Stow it, Stevie.”

“I think we’re lost, Buck.”

Bucky glared at Steve over his shoulder, but he kept trudging up the path. Steve followed close behind, resisting the urge to pull out his phone and check his GPS. When they’d made the decision to start hiking the mountains around Wakanda, they’d agreed “no GPS”. It would be more fun that way,according to Bucky. Steve was beginning to have second thoughts.

They trudged along for another fifteen minutes or so before Bucky dropped onto one of the outcropping of rocks along the path they been following, a path that had taken in a circle several times.

“I think you’re probably right,” Bucky sighed. “We’re lost.”

“Can we use the GPS now?” Steve asked.

“I can’t believe you want to use the GPS,” Bucky scoffed. “For crying out loud, you didn’t have GPS back when you were a boy scout.”

“I was never a boy scout,” Steve laughed. “I couldn’t cross the street without having an asthma attack, you know that.” He pulled a bottle of water from his backpack, took a long drink, then handed it to his partner. “So what you’re saying is we’re going to keep wandering in circles until we find our way back?”

Bucky shrugged, but he was smiling. “Seems like a good idea. Besides, there’s nobody I’d rather be lost in the woods with than you.”

Bucky launched himself at Steve, catching him off-guard and knocking him to the ground. He cupped Steve’s head in his hands, his mouth slanting over Steve’s, kissing him breathless.

“You’re such a punk,” Steve growled. “I’d be willing to bet you got us lost on purpose so you could attack me in the woods.”

“Maybe,” Bucky chuckled.

Steve pushed away from Bucky, shaking his head, one eyebrow raised. “You did get us lost on purpose, didn’t you?”

Bucky kissed Steve again, cutting him off. “Just go with the moment, okay?”

“Okay,” Steve whispered, twisting his fingers in Bucky’s hair, tugging him close. “Going with the moment.”


	26. Teasing One Another

Steve was panting and moaning, the sounds obscene to his own ears. He had one hand tangled in Bucky’s hair, the other on his hip, holding him close. Bucky had him pressed against the sink, his shirt pushed up and one hand palming the front of his jeans.

He and Bucky were attending a luncheon at the palace with T’Challa and some visiting dignitaries. He was going to have to ask T’Challa to not sit him next to Bucky in the future. The hand sliding up his leg through most of lunch was very distracting, not to mention the whispered promises in his ear. He’d forgotten how insatiable Bucky was and how much of a tease he could be.  

Steve finally had to excuse himself and sneak off to the bathroom. He splashed some cold water on his face and the back of his neck, while he sucked in several deep breaths. Bucky was trying to kill him, he was sure of it.

The bathroom door popped open, making him jump. 

“You okay, Stevie?” Bucky asked, a smirk on his attractive face.

Steve spun around, taking a step back, his ass hitting the sink. Bucky stepped closer, which prompted Steve to put one hand up, in the center of Buck’s chest.

Bucky’s grin only grew wider as he moved in, ducked his head, and pressed a kiss to Steve’s lips. Steve moaned, the sound barely audible, but he didn’t push Bucky away, only fisted his fingers in Bucky’s shirt, encouraging him to kiss him harder.

“You don’t seem okay,” Bucky murmured.

“It’s because you’re trying to kill me,” Steve mumbled.

“I’m not trying to kill you,” Bucky chuckled, “I’m trying to fuck you.”

“Buck,” Steve admonished. “Watch your language.”

Bucky’s lips moved over Steve’s neck, biting and sucking, his hand sliding over the front of Steve’s pants,  whose moans of desire grew louder with every mark Bucky left on him.

“I think it’s time to go,” Bucky whispered, his breath hot against Steve’s ear. He released Steve, spun around, and disappeared out the bathroom door.

“Yeah,” Steve sighed, sagging against the sink. “Definitely time to go.”


	27. Trying to Seduce One Another

Seduction wasn’t exactly his forte, it never had been. He’d gone from a scrawny loser who couldn’t get a woman - or a man, aside from Bucky, who had merely taken pity on him at the time, to Captain America, who had women - showgirls mostly, aside from Peggy - throwing themselves at his feet, to being frozen in the ice for seventy years, to fighting monsters, both human and inhuman, with barely a pause in between. It wasn’t like he’d had time to perfect his seduction skills.

And honestly, he didn’t have to seduce Bucky. There was no doubt he was Steve’s and Steve was his. Ever since they’d made the decision to cross that invisible line back in the forties, subtlety was unnecessary. Bucky had no problem expressing how he felt about Steve and no problem showing him. Steve had always been along for the ride. The thought of seducing Bucky was laughable at best. So, he’d never tried.

“Earth to Steve.” Bucky poked him in the side. “Where’d you go, Stevie?”

“Lost in my own thoughts,” he shrugged.

“What were you thinking about?”

“Honestly? I was thinking about how I could seduce you.”

Bucky threw his head back and laughed, the sound filling the room, music to Steve’s ears. Tears leaked from the corner of his eyes and his whole body shook. Once he got himself under control, he slid across the couch and slipped an arm around Steve.

“You know you don’t have to do much, right? I’m pretty much yours for the taking.”

Steve growled and pushed Bucky to his back, slotting himself between his legs, fingers tangled in his chestnut locks, pulling him into a deep kiss. Bucky moaned, surrendering himself to Steve’s kiss, surrendering himself to Steve completely.

Steve took his time, slowly removing Bucky’s clothes, kissing every inch of skin as it was exposed until Bucky was moaning and writhing, naked, beneath him, begging for more. Instead, Steve shoved himself to his feet and held out his hand.

Bucky took it, letting Steve haul him to his feet. “What are we doing?”

“We’re going in the bedroom so I can finish seducing you,” Steve smirked.

“Oh, was that what you were doing?” Bucky joked.

Steve put his hands on Bucky’s shoulders, laughing and shaking his head as he pushed his boyfriend toward his bedroom. “You’re such a jerk.”

“Takes one to know one, punk.”


	28. Pillow Talk

“I told Nat and Sam four weeks. Until the end of the month.”

“Which is today,” Bucky sighed.

Steve turned to face him, tucking the pillow under his head so he could see Bucky. As for Bucky, he was lying on his back, staring at the ceiling, one arm thrown over his head, his face pinched and irritated. He sighed again.

“Are you going to leave?” Bucky asked. “I mean, after everything that’s happened?”

“I don’t want to leave. But I promised.”

Bucky scrubbed a hand over his face and pinched the bridge of his nose. “And everybody knows how Captain America is about keeping his promises.”

“That wasn’t sarcastic or anything,” Steve muttered. Bucky had no idea how the thought of leaving Wakanda, of leaving _him_ was tearing him apart. He didn’t want to lose Bucky, not after they’d just found each other.

Bucky mirrored Steve, turning on his side with a pillow tucked under his head. He smiled half-heartedly and shrugged one shoulder.

“I don’t want you to go.”

Steve could hear the emotion in Bucky’s voice, hear the fear, the longing, the desperation. A month ago he hadn’t even been sure that Bucky would remember what they’d had, or if he did, that he would want that again. Now, the thought of leaving Bucky and returning to the life he’d been leading made him feel sick.

“You could come with me?” Steve whispered.

“No. No, I can’t. That’s not me, that life. That’s you. You’re the good guy, the one who swoops in and saves the day. I’m the guy that blows it to pieces.”

“Not anymore,” Steve growled. “You’re not that person anymore and you don’t have to be that person again. Come with me.”

Bucky closed his eyes and shook his head. “I can’t, not now. Maybe later, but now, no. I still need time, Steve, to reconcile who I am now with who I once was. I can’t do that if I’m out fighting other people’s battles.”

“I shouldn’t have asked,” Steve sighed. He slid closer to Bucky and pressed a kiss to his lips. “I don’t know what to do here, Buck.”

“I can’t answer that for you. This is on you. As much as that sucks.”

“It totally sucks,” Steve agreed. “Totally.”

“I don’t want to talk about it anymore,” Bucky murmured. “Not right now, not when we have other things to do.” He grabbed Steve and yanked him closer, his mouth slanting over Steve’s, swallowing any protests he might have verbalized.

Steve didn’t care. Whatever Bucky wanted, it was his for the taking.

* * *

Steve waited until Bucky was in the shower behind closed doors before taking his cell phone from the drawer where it had been sitting for the last month and quickly dialing the number from memory.

"Hey, Sam, it's me," he said. "We need to talk."


End file.
